The Second Time Around
by satan-chillin
Summary: In his second chance in life, Klaus fixed alot of loose ends starting from meeting an old Dave and his powers.


Unbeta-ed. Enjoy!

* * *

The first time was purely by accident.

It was funny, really, how fate worked. One minute you were pushing thirties, then your brother who went missing for seventeen years returned bearing news of the apocalypse coming within eight days. You tried to stop it with your siblings but failed because your ordinary sister turned out to have some badass powers that ended up triggering the end of the world. Next thing you knew, all of you returned to your thirteen-year-old bodies to escape, give the greatest Dad in the world a piece of mind, and fix said sister who ended up blowing the moon. The trippiest week of Klaus's twice whole life.

So far, so good, which Klaus expected it to be with a technically-fifty-eight-years-old Five managing them after the unanimous decision that Luther was a shit leader. Five eloquently told him that at his face, by the way, and while it obviously stung, Luther accepted the slap of truth in his face like a true champ, and in turn began to see Dad for what he was. There was hope for him yet.

Five dragged them to sneak out to that donut shop from before. There was no victory to celebrate yet, but it was a nice get-together to make Vanya feel included again. They should do it more, in Klaus's opinion, since it seemed to light up Vanya's gloomy face whenever they were together like this, complete and outside the clutches of their Dad. Even the uptight Five was loosening up, Luther being less insufferable, Allison being the usual, Diego being more fun and less grouchy, and Ben… Ben was alive and whole again.

"Isn't it past your bedtimes?" said an aged male voice.

Klaus was sharing a table with Ben and Vanya, his back towards the counter, so he couldn't see who it was. But there was something underneath the maturity of the voice that tingled a distant familiarity.

"It is," Klaus heard Five said since their table was the nearest. Five was the only one separated from them, claiming a spot on one of the stools and intimidated the waitress earlier with his all-teeth smile. No doubt he was doing the same to the stranger next to him. "But we don't really give much shit on the opinion of some adult who isn't even our father."

The stranger surprisingly chuckled despite the blatant rudeness. And Klaus thought—no, _knew_; he knew he heard that chuckle before. "From a random adult-who's-not-your-family, lemme treat you and your siblings. Hey, Agnes, put their bill on mine, will you? And a fresh pot for this boy here."

Klaus abruptly stood, catching in time Five's brief expression of surprise before it settled back to his default face, murmuring a thank you. Klaus was the only one who heard the exchange, causing Ben and Vanya to look at him as he stalked towards Five.

Klaus was supposed to assault the guy, because familiar or not, that was a very pedophilic move. Thinking about it, he was actually saving the guy the trouble because he made the wrong move hitting on Five. And, hey, the worst he could get from Klaus was a socked face and some bruises. As for his brothers and sisters, he couldn't vouch for them not to kill the dickwad.

"Hey, mister," Klaus said loudly as he tapped the guy's shoulder, gaining Allison, Luther, and Diego's attention in the process. "I don't think—"

The guy turned to him, and the words instantly died in Klaus's mouth.

His hair was gray, and there were lines on his face as many as the lines on his palm, but Jesus fucking Christ Klaus couldn't mistake him for anyone else.

It was Dave.

"Oh, hello," the old Dave said pleasantly in greeting, glancing between Klaus and Five. "Brothers, huh?"

It was like eons ago when he last saw Dave smiled, and it fucking ached. Klaus did the only thing he was best at.

He escaped.

* * *

It wasn't long when the seven of them were cramped in Klaus's room. Vanya and Allison were by his side, and Ben was where he usually was before as a ghost: by the foot of the bed. Five was at the windowsill while Luther and Diego were against the wall.

There Klaus was, for the first time talking about Dave and his ten months stay at Vietnam 1968. Five was the first who pieced it all together since he was the only one who knew of Klaus's accidental time travel, but he was just as grim as them after learning it all.

Communication might never have been their family's greatest asset, but being there with his siblings together in the middle of the night just talking… there was something freeing in telling that particular phase of Klaus's remarkably disorganized life. And—would wonders ever cease—they actually cared.

Diego was the last to leave, and Klaus could see that he was terribly confused.

"I know this sounds weird," Diego began when it was just the two of them alone, almost hesitant. "But it feels like you told me about Dave before. Not with the others, just between the two us."

There was, indeed, a small niggling sense of déjà vu when Klaus was talking earlier but dismissed it as another weird shit side effect of being young again and reliving their years. "I think I'll remember if I told you about my greatest love," Klaus couldn't help but tease.

"Yeah," Diego agreed with a frown. "Yeah, you would."

Lying on his bed alone, it occurred to Klaus that if Dave managed to get this old, then Klaus's presence in the past was basically what caused his early death in the frontlines.

How was that for his greatest love?

* * *

It was months when the initial shock wore off.

If you ask Five, he would say that what Klaus was experiencing wasn't a mere shock. Klaus was blaming himself for Dave's death, making the huge mistake of thinking he happened to be in the whole ordeal on purpose. Five lectured him on the complicated branching of time and how Klaus couldn't have known the resulting butterfly effect of him being in the past. When it went in over Klaus's head, Five made sure to snap him out of it.

Klaus did regain his senses and decided that he wanted to find Dave one day, but with nothing much to go on, he was met with a dead end. Five aided him by revisiting the donut shop within certain hours of the night—not that Klaus needed to know where he went—but to no avail. The yellow pages around the city were just as unhelpful, and it made Five conclude that Dave's presence at the donut shop was mere chance, that maybe he was simply visiting a relative nearby or it was a short stopover in his long drive.

An idea popped in his mind in the middle of lunch, and a few months later, he and Klaus were at the annual Veterans Day Parade.

The sidewalk was crowded with bystanders, and admittedly, it was a fifty-fifty chance that they would find Dave there. But Five wasn't going to stomach another half a year of Klaus's moping.

His computation of probability might be a bit off the mark, but Dave did make an appearance in the parade, marching in his uniform and looking much older under the light of the day, but happy as he walked hand-in-hand with his former comrades. Surreptitiously, Five watched Klaus and found him wearing a proud smile, his eyes misty. Five respectfully kept his silence, walking after Klaus sedately as they followed the march in a slower pace.

It was afternoon when the crowd broke into different directions. Klaus rushed ahead with the intention of catching Dave alone. He was unsuccessful, however, when five people met Dave instead—two males and a female in their early thirties, a boy at least four years younger than Five and Klaus's present physical age, and an elderly woman who embraced Dave and kissed him.

Five didn't have to look at Klaus to know his reaction.

"Come," he said, pulling Klaus by his elbows. "We haven't eaten."

"Think Mom will cook me bacon and eggs for late lunch?" Klaus asked later, as if nothing happened. Five pretended not to see him quickly brushing his eyes against his sleeve.

"Maybe," Five answered noncommittally. He slipped Klaus a handkerchief. "Here. You'll ruin your uniform."

When he received a quick murmur of thanks, Five knew he successfully sent the sentiment across.

* * *

Klaus was pretty sure this was considered stalking, but after knowing where he could surely find Dave, he couldn't stop going in the park Dave frequented, where he was solving crossword puzzles on newspapers before fetching his grandson from school.

He was lucky that he appeared as a kid, else Dave wouldn't be this nice when he confronted him and gently said, "I've seen you around. Are you following me?"

"Actually, yeah," Klaus said truthfully, because he couldn't find it in him to lie at Dave's face. Well, not exactly the whole truth why or Dave would think him lunatic; half-truth then. "Sorry. You probably forgot about me, but we've met last year. You know, the kids you treated at the donut shop once."

Dave's gray brows rose in recognition. "Oh, I remember. You're one of those kids."

"The one who suddenly ran out, yeah," Klaus said ruefully, partly sheepish. "That was ungrateful of me."

Dave waved a hand dismissively. "Nah. Better be wary of strangers. You can't tell these days." He nodded sagely. "It's what I keep saying to say to my grandkids." He offered the vacant spot on the bench next to him. "How old are you, son?"

"Fourteen."

"Shouldn't you be at school?"

Klaus shrugged. "It's lunch break."

Dave studied him, taking note of his uniform. "Boarding school? Your uniform kinda looks familiar," he said thoughtfully.

And what the hell, right? The Dave that he knew was aware of his ability to see the dead, the only one to believe him, in fact. So why the hell Klaus shouldn't tell him that now?

"Have you heard of the Umbrella Academy?"

* * *

People would have thought it weird, and suspicious, that a kid was friendly with a sixty-something man, but the way they acted together was more like how a grandfather and his grandson would bond—chatting, feeding the birds, and oftentimes sharing lunch that Dave made for two until they went on their separate ways: Klaus back at the academy, and Dave to get his grandson from school.

The thing was, Klaus got to know him more than the ten months he spent with him. Maybe it was the mundaneness of their current circumstances, of not being in the usual heat of battle.

If there was one thing that didn't change, though, was Dave's fascination in his stories.

Klaus thought there would be more skepticism from Dave given their present ages, but in the end he was still that same guy full of wonder and creative imagination.

"My grandson, David, is a fan of you and your siblings," Dave shared once. "Number Two, especially. The one with the knives. I tell you, that kid made me and his Mom nervous when he prowled around the kitchen to count the number of knives they have."

Klaus grinned. Diego would like to hear that, inadvertently inspiring hazard aside. On their next meeting, Klaus gave Dave an autograph of the siblings, an early birthday gift for David, Klaus said.

He hasn't even met any of Dave's family yet, but they must be wonderful judging by the way Dave's eyes lit up when talking about them. Dave told him about how he met his wife after two tours, settled down in the countryside with her and had three children. Joanna was a kind and caring woman, Dave said. And while her memory wasn't how they used to be, Dave would keep loving her.

Klaus ignored the pang in his chest then. In this timelines, Dave has his own life and was living it to the utmost. He was free of that mess of a man who appeared out of nowhere in Vietnam. Dave deserved to reach this age; he deserved to live a long, long life.

"Klaus, can I say something?" Ben suddenly said in the privacy of his room, when Klaus asked him if he could lend a book to bring Dave next time.

"You think he'll like _The Picture of Dorian Gray_?" Klaus questioned distractedly as he went over Ben's personal collection of books. When Ben didn't answer and began shifting his foot, Klaus turned to him. "You were saying?"

"I think you should stop."

"Alright, geez. I was just looking."

"I'm not talking about that, Klaus." Ben sighed heavily, as if didn't know a less ugly way to say what he would say next. "I think you should stop seeing Dave."

When Klaus simply stared at him, Ben continued, "You're chasing a ghost, Klaus."

Klaus snorted. "I'm sure as hell he isn't a ghost."

"Not the one you're used to, no. But he's a ghost of your past. You're after a person who never met you before all this. You have to let him go, Klaus. This isn't healthy."

"Where did you pick that up, huh? One of your sad little books?"

Ben—the gall of him—smiled fucking sadly, fucking pitiful. "I've seen it in you. Years of tailing you around told me that you tend to latch on destructiveness. You can't avoid seeking what destroys you, Klaus."

"Well, fuck you too, Benjamin."

Ben was unflinchingly calm despite the harshness of Klaus's voice. Goddammit, he knew him so well. He knew that he hit the right spot. "But we're here now—I'm alive, with our brothers and sisters—and we'll help you avoid ruining yourself until you learn to do it on your own."

He hugged Klaus so tight that the initial anger left him. Ben was right, as always.

Klaus arms tightened around his brother. "I can't, Ben. I'm happy when I'm with him."

"We know, but not all things that make us happy are right for us."

The following day, Klaus said his farewell to Dave with a half-hearted excuse that Reginald caught him sneaking out. Klaus had to wave off Dave's apology for having a hand in putting him in trouble.

"I'm always the troublesome kid among us, you know." Klaus smirked.

Klaus handed him a book, _A Dance Through Time_, that Dave gratefully took, claiming that there was more for him to do now other than answering crosswords.

"It's from my brother, Ben. He sends his regards. Keep it." Klaus stood, unable to look at his companion straight in the eye. "Goodbye, Dave."

It was a win, Klaus thought, when he didn't make the mistake of promising that he would see Dave again.

* * *

Klaus suspected it was Ben who told them, but it was still surprising to see them adamantly protesting against Reggie, _and_ it was amusing to see dear 'ol Dad struggling against the six of them.

"How I wish to train Number Four isn't up to any of you," Reggie said, terribly miffed to be met with resistance. "Now off to bed, all of you."

"You call locking him in the mausoleum training? What utter bullshit," Diego spat.

Reginald's glare was thunderous, but Diego bravely met it head-on. "That language is unacceptable, Number Two."

"He's right, Dad," interrupted Luther more calmly. "This isn't training. I think you should already know that after the multiple times you subjected Number Four to it."

Klaus didn't know whether it was because it was Luther, or the fact that they knew that Klaus was detained several times before since he was eight.

"You're inventive. If you're so keen on developing Number Four's ability, then you'll surely find another way, one that doesn't involve putting him in the dark enclosed space defenseless," Five said.

"They're right, Dad," Vanya added. "Look at me. It didn't really do me good, right?" The lack of cruelty in her tone was painfully forgiving, because that what Vanya was, not capable of bearing grudge even against the man who had her powers concealed.

Her words seemed to have broken through Reginald's stony expression. "Very well. This—"

"Hey, hold up. Is nobody going to ask me about this?" Klaus asked. "I mean, this is _me_ we're talking about."

"Klaus—"

He smiled at Ben's slip. "No, let me finish. I'm glad that you're defending my case. Makes me special, you know. It's true that this," he gestured at the mausoleum behind him, "is, and never will be, my favorite. But I want to give it a shot one last time. Even it helps or not, there won't be next time. So, please? Allow me to at least see the extent of my power."

"Are you sure?" Allison asked gently when he was met with silence, squeezing his arm.

"Yeah." Even Klaus was puzzled by his sudden decisiveness. "Yeah, I'm sure, sis."

"Fine. Then we'll camp out here," Five decided for the rest. By the lack of disagreement, the others were fine with it.

"It's freezing out here," Klaus pointed out.

"I'll have Grace bring out the tents, warmer, and comforters," Pogo announced with a smile. "And hot chocolate for everyone."

"Coffee for me. Black," Five said, almost daring Reginald to say anything about it. Five knew there was a hidden canister of caffeine in the kitchen.

"And for you, Master Reginald?"

"Do not bother. I'll be at my office," Reginald said curtly before returning to the mansion.

Klaus couldn't care less if Reginald lingered. His brothers and sisters were already there, having their first camping outside the house, and knowing their presence were right outside the doors was enough for Klaus to push himself inside.

The ghosts were angry to be disturbed, probably because of the noise a while ago, and they screamed against the intruder that entered their territory. When they realized that Klaus could see them, they were more unrelenting in yelling with their distorted voices, pressing to Klaus's sides until they gradually suffocated him.

Klaus tried to relax. He was still standing, but his knees felt week at the muffling cold. Suddenly, he wanted to give up, and it would be so easy to shout for help and they would come barreling in.

But Klaus didn't. He asked for this, therefore he would finish it by himself.

He took a shaky breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. It took a while, but his breathing eventually evened out.

Klaus was afraid, very much so. But what was the dead against the living? What were they compared to him who lived half his life twice, met God once, been on the frontlines of a war, and escaped the end of the world with his family?

These transparent beings could only wail their hate for being done unfairly in life. Well, Klaus has news for them: life sucked for everyone, and it didn't matter if you were ordinary or not. In the end, you make do with what you have and live the most out of it.

Klaus couldn't believe it, but Reggie was right. He should be the master of his fear, not the other way around. And Klaus was so much stronger than these bunch.

He mustered that strength and commanded, "Keep your distance from me."

There was buzzing and a soft blue glow that turned out to be coming from his hands. The agitated spirits hurriedly avoided him, seemingly suspended as they hovered away from Klaus.

"Now," he addressed them firmly, chuckling at the lack of waver in his voice. "Let's start this properly. Hopefully without yelling, hmm?"

* * *

Klaus was the first to leave the academy at the ripe second age of eighteen.

Before, it was Allison after she found her calling in acting. This time around, she was putting more effort to her future stardom, enrolling herself in a school. Allison wanted to be an actress of her own making, not through her powers of persuasion. Her family knew she would get there, perhaps a bit longer than the first time, but she would.

It wasn't only Allison who took their time traveling as a second chance in life. Luther decided that he wanted to be a pilot; Diego would be taking the route to police academy again, with hopes of graduating for good; Five grew up with them like a proper adolescent and was planning to pursue a career as a mathematician, the nerd; Ben has taken an interest in baking and was thinking of becoming a pâtissier; and Vanya was reigniting her passion in playing the violin through Klaus's aid by summoning the spirits of Paganini and Kreisler—or whoever violinist with difficult names—to mentor her.

On Klaus's last day home, Vanya treated them to a small concert done in the living room. She was scheduled to play on a theater at the next state, and her siblings got the privilege to hear her play first.

Klaus had never gotten into classical music, but Vanya played beautifully and enjoyed every second of it. For that alone, Klaus was happy for her—for them, because not only did they make Vanya more adjusted, they also managed to mend some broken bridges. It wasn't all smooth road, of course. There were too many bumps like nightly terrors on Vanya's part that resulted to somebody accidentally getting injured. There was a lot of pain and patience and sweat, but there were also a lot of love given. Nothing was too easy, but in the end, they emerged successful.

"Take care, will you?" Vanya said as the last person to embrace Klaus when they sent their well-wishes. "Write to us, to me, so I can send you tickets to my performance."

"Will do." He kissed her on her cheek and winked. "Play well, will you?"

* * *

Klaus knew long ago that he could blend colors nicely, so he had tried his luck in painting couple of times, but he had been either too high or too sober and had been distracted to even finish a piece.

"I think this shade is not right," Klaus insisted. "It looks like I'm covering up a pigeon shit or something."

"It will work, trust me," Monet said in his heavily-accented English. "Mr. Pollock will tell you the same."

"Well, I don't want to hear it from a man whose works are like someone's kid sneezed paint on the canvas. No offense, Jackson."

Jackson Pollock who had been quietly smoking in a corner gave Klaus a toothy grin around his cigarette. "None taken, kiddo."

Picasso cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me saying, Monsieur Monet, his style is much closer to Mr. Munch's."

"Ja?" Edvard said when he heard his name.

"Can you believe this?" Klaus grumbled to Vincent as the other painters argued among each other which color should be chosen for the horizon. "I was just saying the pink doesn't fit." He crossed his arms. "I might cut my own ears too if they don't shut up."

Vincent smiled benignly.

"Oh, right, you didn't do it intentionally. Hey, maybe I'll be the first painter to ever did, and I'll say that it's the dead painters that drove me to it. Then I'll admit that I suddenly realized that it doesn't work that way, and I'll be labeled as the idiot painter. People are unforgiving these days, ya know."

Somebody was solid enough to crash and topple over the easel that Klaus was forced to sort them before it became an all-out rumble between the dead artists.

It then dawned to Klaus that this was his life now, the pacifist between heatedly arguing dead people.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

By the age of twenty-three, Klaus Hargreeves was hailed as the Contemporary Munch, Present-day Monet, Modern Van Gogh, and an assortment of titles that linked him to numerous celebrated artists.

They were partly right since he had been their mentee, and who could even say that they've experienced that? They were proud of him as he incorporated each of their styles to his pieces as his way of honoring them. When they finally deemed him a graduate, Klaus already has a style he called his own.

Klaus would send random works of his at the academy and to his siblings. He wasn't sure at first whether Reggie hung them, but Pogo's letters said that he did, and oftentimes Grace was admiring them with a proud smile. Pogo confessed that even Reginald would look at the paintings occasionally with a solemn look on his face.

And honestly? That was enough to make feel Klaus fucking accomplished.

* * *

Staying sober was a difficult job on itself.

Klaus had been sober for years, and technically speaking, his body never tasted any substance other than weed and alcohol. It didn't mean, however, that he never found himself itching for a fix, as if a remnant of his past addiction followed him through time.

The temptation was worst when it was some hook up that would offer a pill or powder to spice things up before they proceeded to bed. Klaus could easily agree in the heat of the moment, until he remembered how hard he worked to be free of those shit again.

Once, he made a mistake of taking home somebody with a temper and couldn't take a simple 'no'. Just his luck that he was to meet Diego the next day and saw his bruise.

Or the guy's bad luck, really, because Diego brought in the guy for possession right after his lunch with Klaus.

Klaus thought that was probably how Diego liked his dessert: throwing a douchebag at the backseat of his police car and with a side of broken nose and dislocated arm for laying a hand on his brother.

Fantastic.

* * *

It was two years later when he met Dave again.

Surprise, surprise, it was by accident. Again.

They have to stop meeting like this, else Klaus would think that the universe was conspiring against him.

But it also felt so good to be recognized by Dave among the sea of people, despite the years, despite his old age. And they talked and talked because that was always how it went between them, then and now. They caught up, and Dave looked at Klaus with awe like how a father would to his son when he made something terrific for himself. It was supposed to be weird given their alternate past, but somehow it just worked out like that.

Klaus met Joanna who was stuck on her wheelchair, and while her memory worsened, she seemed to know Klaus from Dave's stories alone of this boy he made pals with. She was a wonderful person who could make a mean apple pie.

Dave lucked out when he found Joanna, Klaus thought as he sat across them on a dinner they invited him to like a long-lost family. Joanna thanked him later on when it was just the two of them, saying she was getting a bit lonely since her youngest child left home. The house was homely, but it felt empty, she said, and she was concerned about Dave once she was gone.

"You're a good friend of his," she told Klaus after one of their dinners. She seemed frailer than Klaus remembered her, drifting in and out of the present frequently during meals. "Take care of Dave, will you?"

She didn't have to ask Klaus; of course, he would. Though saying it was bound to leave an odd taste in his mouth. "Don't you think it's a bit early to ask me that?"

"Maybe, but I know my own self, young man, and I can feel it in my bones that my time is getting nearer."

Klaus didn't like how her words rang heavily in his ears. "You speak as if you've already given up."

"Resting, yes. I've been fighting this for too long that already forgot when I started." She smiled wanly. "Dave deserves a break too and live his years to the fullest."

"Oh yeah? You want him to experience heartbreak as well, is that it?" Klaus accused. "You don't think that it'll kill him when he learns that you gave up in life because you want to free him? Don't you think that's fucking unfair to Dave to make that decision for him?"

Joanna simply smiled serenely at Klaus throughout his tirade that was miraculously went unheard by Dave who was at the kitchen. "Dave isn't under the impression that I'll outlive him. He's ready, more than you think, Klaus." Her hands reached for his face, gingerly holding him in place. "I'm glad that I'll be living him with someone who loves him."

"He's a good dad. No children couldn't love that."

Joanna's laugh seemingly made her years younger. "You silly young man. I'm talking about you. You love Dave, don't you?" She smirked at Klaus's startled expression. "Oh, please. I'd like to believe that I know what a man looks like when he's captivated."

Klaus exhaled sharply, making up his mind. "Okay, I know this sounds weird, but it's not what you—"

She shushed him. "You don't have to explain. There are some things that can't be put to words properly, and often it is love."

Klaus might have lived twice, but no way he gained this kind of wisdom in life.

Joanna squeezed his shoulders. "It's enough for me to know that Dave will be taken care of. And you too, young man. Life is too short to not be happy."

Her last piece of advice was also her last words to him. Joanna quietly passed on the wee hours of the morning three days later, holding Dave's hand and with a peaceful smile on her beautiful face.

* * *

As Dave grieved, Klaus tried to be there as a friend, never intruding when he mourned with his family. Klaus was unable to see Joanna's ghost, and he supposed it was for the best that she quickly moved on and found her paradise.

Though it took some time, Joanna was right that Dave wasn't completely unprepared for this. He got himself out of his own slump and claimed that his wife wouldn't let him mope longer than necessary. Dave put himself back to the world: met with his old war buddies who were still alive, played bingo with the local seniors, visited his grandchildren, took long walks, and did activities that he could manage with his creaking bones. Dave has a bucket list, and Klaus didn't pass up the chance to help him tick the checkboxes one by one.

A formed tradition of theirs was watching Allison's new movies. Klaus learned that Dave found her impressive with how she killed her roles, so since then they would catch her films during premiere. When Klaus told Allison about this, she made sure to send an extra ticket for Dave.

Klaus brought him in an oldies disco that he discovered, and while Dave had insisted that he had his fair share of dancing back in the day, he relented at Klaus's persistence. They ended up dancing at the same song that was playing back then in Nam, _Soul Kitchen_, and Klaus couldn't care less if he was the only person in his twenties dancing with a war veteran with creaking hips.

Try as Klaus might to dismiss how time quickly flew by, being around Dave often was a sure reminder of that. Dave wasn't getting any younger no matter how childish the next activity on his bucket list was, and Klaus knew that he was spending a borrowed time with Dave.

The trickle of time was equally bad as that ten months in Vietnam that resulted to Dave's death.

A few years later, Dave was not as spry as used to be, slept longer during the day, and walked less. He had taken a liking to watching the sunset by his porch, and if Klaus could make the time to, he would join him with an unfinished game of checkers between them.

"Tell me a story," Dave requested, startling Klaus. It had been a while since he asked for one.

"What kind?"

"Anything. True story… fiction… surprise me."

There was this one that Klaus had been meaning to tell long ago, and he thought, what better moment than now?

And so Klaus told him the story of an accidental time traveler who appeared in the middle of a military camp in Vietnam 1968, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and a briefcase on his lap.

* * *

Klaus hypothesized that it must be a side effect of seeing the dead and being surrounded by ghosts.

The ability to smell an impending death in the air.

It would have been morbidly fascinating to discover if he could sense it coming from a different person.

"Aren't you cold?"

"I should be asking that, old man." Klaus forced out a humor that fell flat. Dave chuckled weakly, nonetheless. "Can I ask you something, Dave?"

Dave coughed before replying, "Shoot."

"Are you happy?"

"Tough question. I would have said no after Joanna's death, but I guess I am. Here, now. It's not much, but sitting here at the end of the day, you think back on what you made for yourself: a family, a home we called our own, wonderful children and their kids… peace that I didn't thought I'll have after the war, and I got a good friend. I'm satisfied how my life turned out, and I'm thankful for what I've been given."

Klaus smiled, offering no words for he has nothing. He already heard what he needed to hear.

"Am I dying?" Dave asked.

"Yes."

Dave nodded. "I see. That's too bad, it's quite a lovely sunset we have today."

"They're always breathtaking to witness, Dave."

"I know, but it's always the last one that matters the most, Klaus." Dave patted him on his back. "Now let this old man close his eyes and rest."

When Dave fell asleep and took his last breath, the cicadas were silent, and the only sound heard was the gentle roll of breeze rustling the leaves.

"Good night, Dave."

* * *

Weeks after the funeral, the Richmond Family woke up to a painting sitting on their porch.

It depicted a couple with their hands linked together as they walked on a path where up ahead was a small house over the hill.

_"Returning home"_

_-with love from a friend, _**K.H.**

* * *

On Dave's first death anniversary, Klaus came with two bouquets of white flowers and two sticks of candles he lighted for both Dave and Joanna.

Klaus never saw their ghosts at least once. He was glad that they were undisturbed and finally together up there, and that was all that mattered.

Someone cleared a throat behind Klaus. It was a man around his age, a few inches taller than him, carrying two baskets of flowers.

"Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," said the man. "Wasn't expecting to find another person here."

"It's fine. I'm about to leave, anyway."

"You're a family friend, aren't you?" The stranger frowned. "I think I've seen you around, but I don't think we've met." He held out a hand. "David."

"Klaus." He shook the strong but otherwise friendly grip. "Klaus Hargreeves."

"Oh." David's brows rose. "Oh! You're the one Popop was talking about."

Klaus couldn't help but snort. "_Popop_?"

"Hey, he liked that so I never outgrow it," David said defensively. "Why am I even explaining this?"

"Don't ask me." Klaus grinned. "So you were the kid he was fetching from school before."

"Yeah, that was me. Did he tell you a lot of embarrassing stories about me?"

"Give your Popop a little credit. He just told me that you were a fan of the Umbrella Academy, so I got you an autograph of me and my siblings."

"Now you're just pulling my leg." At Klaus smug grin, he added, "Wait. Seriously?"

Klaus wriggled his long sleeve and showed his tattoo.

"Oh, wow." David looked blown by the revelation. "I mean, I'm still a fan, to be honest. Heck, I framed your autographs and boasted it at school. What happened to you guys?"

"We started a life and took care of ourselves better, because we can't be in the superhero business forever," Klaus told him. "And there's this sister of ours who needed help with her powers. You probably don't know her. She was Number Seven, and let me tell you, she's the most badass out of all of us."

David pulled a dubious face. "Sure, but Number Two is still my favorite, closely followed by Number Five."

"Hey, Number Four is cool too," Klaus grumbled.

"Didn't participate much in the action, often in the sidelines."

"It's because he hadn't gotten a better hold in his powers back then. He does now."

"Oh, yeah? You seem to know a great deal about Number Four, maybe you can tell me more about him later," David segued, sheepish when he rubbed his nape. "That is, if you're free?"

"Over coffee?"

"Yep."

Klaus's lips quirked. "It's a date then."

* * *

Months later, the invitation to dinner among siblings was also extended to David, adding to the doubling amount of people around the table. Diego's police girlfriend, Patch, was present, and so was Vanya's cellist gal, Lucy. Klaus bet that the next time they would be here together, Luther and Allison's kid, or kids, were the next exciting additions, unless Five and Ben would beat them to it and bring their own dates. Now that was an interesting prospect.

Klaus noted how they easily adopted David to their group, and how David slot in perfectly. David's hand would find Klaus's, and they would squeeze and twine their fingers idly together as they joined the conversation.

To think that it had to take an apocalypse and time travel to come this far, happy and complete. Klaus wouldn't have believed it if you told him, but, hey, here they were.

All was good.

**FIN**

* * *

Thanks for the read! :)


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